


She Would Have Set the Goblet on Fire

by alexjanna91



Series: Hairy Dog Mother [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Female Sirius Black, Gen, POV Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjanna91/pseuds/alexjanna91
Summary: Harry was pretty sure he’d never been in so many near death experiences before. He’d also never felt so loved before.





	She Would Have Set the Goblet on Fire

*

_Harry -_  
I can’t say everything I would like to in a letter, it’s too risky in case the owl is intercepted – we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?  
…  
With Love,   
**Sirius**

*

Harry stroked a finger over the last words in his godmother’s most recent letter. _With Love_. The common room was dim the dwindling fire in the hearth the only true light in the room. The parchment was curling on the top and bottom from the long hours of being rolled up and stashed in his pocket and the ink was running a bit where Ron had spilled some pumpkin juice on him during dinner. 

The last three words of the letter, however, were still bold and black and Harry had perhaps spent too much time just reading them over and over again; running the pads of his fingers over them as if to feel the stroke of each letter. Mouthing the words to himself, wanting to memorize and remember them forever. 

_With Love, Sirius_

Sirius ended all her letters this way and Harry felt a wave of warmth in his chest every time he read them. _With Love_. No one had ever said that to him before. He’d never had love, anybody’s love. Nobody had loved him as far back as he could remember. But Sirius did. Sirius loved him and he loved her so much in return. 

Two letters were all he received from Sirius over the summer. Her being on the lam made correspondence sparse, but still Harry had never felt such warmth, such belonging as when he’d opened those letters and read those words for the first time. _With Love. Love Always._ and the simple, but no less wonderful, _Love_. 

Sirius loved him and he was going to cherish each and every reminder no matter how small. 

Movement in the fireplace caught Harry’s eye. He jumped when he looked up to see Sirius’s head floating in the flames. 

He was kneeling on the stone before the fire in the next heartbeat getting soot on his pajamas. 

“Sirius! You’re here!”

“Of course I am!” Sirius grinned at him, her image bright yellow and orange and flame blue. “I said we needed to talk face-to-face, didn’t I?”

Harry grinned back, wide and happy. “How’re you doing?”

“Me? Forget me. How are you?” she demanded, her light expression folding into seriousness. 

Smile dropping, Harry felt his stomach take an uncomfortable fall. He tried, but looking at Sirius and her earnestly worried frown, he couldn’t say, “I’m fine.” Before he knew it he was spilling every worry, hardship, and unhappiness that had recently become his life. 

As he poured his problems into the fire separating them, Harry noticed how different Sirius looked. Her cheeks were no longer sunken, the deep bruises under her eyes had faded, and her lips were fuller, almost generous again. Once matted and raggedly hanging limp down her back, Sirius’s hair was now smooth and shining, its gentle waves twined into a long neat braid draped over one shoulder.

She was beautiful, Harry thought. He imagined she looked more like as when his parents had known her. Almost exactly like the smiling joyful photo of her at their wedding. 

“I’m a gonner, Sirius! It’s dragons,” Harry summed up despondently coming to the end of his woes. He was desperate for her to say something, anything that would reassure him he wasn’t going to die in dragon fire and fangs at the pitifully young age of fourteen. 

“Don’t worry about the dragons right now, we’ll get to them,” Sirius told him, her face now grave, urgency in her voice. “I’m stealing a wizarding couple’s fireplace and they might be home anytime, so listen carefully. There are things you need to be warned about.”

“What?” Harry’s stomach twisted unpleasantly. What could possibly be worse than _dragons_?

Apparently there were things more concerning than giant, fire breathing lizards. Harry’s brain was trying to process all the information Sirius was laying on him, but he was getting a little overwhelmed. Incredulous and indignant as well. Couldn’t he have just one year? One year in which no one was trying to kill him?

“Are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the Goblet? ‘Cause he seemed furious about it,” Harry asked, a bit doubtfully. 

“He convinced the Ministry for set him free, didn’t he?” Sirius returned. “It’s obvious he’s a good actor. Now,” she switched gears, “I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet-”

Harry huffed bitterly, “You and the rest of the world.”

“-and reading between the lines,” she continued, rolling right over his mutters, “on that Skeeter woman’s article last month. Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. I don’t think it was a false alarm like the article says.” 

Sirius laid out her theories and clues and character assessments –Bertha Jorkins: vapid nosy idiot-, and it all added up to bad things for Harry. 

“The tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident,” she finished with a deep scowl, her lips thinned with worry now instead of starvation. 

Harry gave a slightly hysterical morbid chuckle, “They’ll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff.” 

“Hah!” Sirius’s eyes took a calculated gleam, “Right- the dragons. Listen, you’ll be fine. There is a way, and a simple spell’s all you need.” Harry perked up anxious to hear her advice. “Just-”

But he heard movement from the dorms. Images of the school in an uproar because a student saw the mass murderer Sirius Black’s head in the fireplace flashed through his mind. Getting dragged to the Ministry to be questioned about Sirius’s whereabouts. Aurors marching Sirius back to the dementors in chains. 

Heart pounding with fear for his godmother, Harry whispered urgently, “Go! Go! Someone’s coming!”

Sirius gave him one last warm look before she _popped!_ and disappeared from the fire. 

It took a while after Ron had stomped back up to the dorm, angry words from both of them echoing in the common room, for Harry’s anxiety to ease. 

Deep down, Harry knew that Ron wouldn’t have turned Sirius in if he’d seen her, but still, the realization of just how close they’d been to discovery was disheartening. It wasn’t fair, Harry sighed frustrated and pulled Sirius’s letter out of his pocket again. It wasn’t fair that the first person to ever want him, to ever love him was kept from him. Running for her life, hiding in far off places, inconsistent letters their only mode of communication. 

All he wanted, Harry felt his throat tighten, all he wanted was a family. She wasn’t there with him, but as he traced over the words at the end of her letter, _With Love_ , he thought about what she’d told him before they parted all those months ago. 

_Remember that the ones that love us never really leave us_. Harry rubbed at the spot on his chest directly over his heart hearing her voice in his mind. _You can always find them right here_.

*

The cave Sirius was staying in was dim and dank. With Harry, Ron, Hermione, Buckbeak and Sirius all standing inside it felt a little claustrophobic and short of air. Or maybe that was just Harry’s anxiety as he finally saw his godmother as a human once more. 

Crouched on the cave floor, Sirius spit out the Daily Prophet with disgust and slowly rose. Her movements were stiff, like it had been a long while since she’d stood on anything other than paws and claws. At her full height –Harry noticed he was now at least a little more than an inch taller- the true state of her appearance was visible. 

The difference between Sirius now and how she had been months ago wreathed in flames in the Gryffindor common room was like night and day. Harry’s stomach tightened in a ball at the sight. 

Her face was once again thin and sallow with malnutrition and her hair was knotted and ragged in its haphazard braid. She wore a man’s white button down and trousers, the frayed suspenders stretched over her shoulders being the only thing keeping her trousers up. While not the rags from Azkaban, they were weather beaten, stained with grime, and hung off her half-starved frame unflatteringly. 

Harry took in her appearance and his anxiety rose. Especially when he looked down. She was barefoot. 

“Hah!” Sirius zeroed in on the bag hanging from Harry’s hand. “Chicken!”

The hungry, almost wild look in her eyes reminded Harry uncomfortably of her manic frenzied singlemindedness from that night in the Shrieking Shack. 

The second she had the chicken leg in her hand, Sirius was tearing into it with no thought to the grease smearing down her chin. Her eyes slipped closed with apparent bliss.

“Harry, you gem, you have no idea how unsatisfying it is to live off rats for weeks on end.” Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned at him. “Stealing too much food would draw attention. It’s quite inconvenient,” she explained wryly.

The chances of her being caught were terrifying. Hogsmeade and Hogwarts have been crawling with Ministry officials and _very important_ wizards off and on all year. Not to mention Moody, supposedly an expert Auror, was living at the castle. This was the last place Sirius should be if she wanted to stay off the radar and free. 

Harry was almost panicking with worry. “What’re you doing here, Sirius?”

“Getting back to my job as godmother, Harry,” she responded casually still grinning as she cracked the chicken bones with her teeth and started to suck out the marrow. “Everything’s fine, dear. I’m just the charming stray wandering around the village.”

“But you could still get caught!” Harry burst, his fraught emotions making his voice a little shrill.

Sirius’s grin slipped away. Tossing the destroyed bones off to the side, she met his eyes with new seriousness. “I want to be here for you, Harry. Your last letter was concerning. Things seem to be getting fishier and from the Daily Prophets I’ve been filching I’m not the only one that’s been noticing.”

Ron picked up the old Prophet and unfolded it. _Mysterious Illness of Bartemius Crouch. Ministry Witch Still Missing – Minister Now Involved_. 

“What if you’re seen? There’s a lot more people around Hogsmeade for the Tournament.” 

“You three and Dumbledore are the only ones that know I’m here or that I’m an Animagus,” Sirius tried to reassure him. “Not even Remus knows I’m here. He’s got important things to do for Dumbledore and the idiot would drop everything and come to ‘take care’ of me if he knew about this.” She gestured vaguely to the cave at large and rolled her eyes. The small gentle smile on her cracked lips, however, gave away her soft feelings at the thought. 

Harry hadn’t thought much about the idea of Sirius and Lupin being together. Or at least they had been together before she was sent to Azkaban. Sirius never mentioned him in their letters so Harry had all but forgotten about it. It was a bit weird, he thought, now that it had been mentioned, to imagine his mild mannered professor and his godmother together. 

Before Harry could really start to dwell on it, Ron nudged him and handed over the paper. 

“They’re making it sound like he’s dying,” Harry said looking up from the paper, “but he managed to get up here for the second task.”

“My brother’s Crouch’s assistant,” Ron told Sirius. “He says Crouch is just suffering from overwork.”

Harry confirmed that Crouch had looked rather ill last time they’d met. Then Hermione vindictively wished housework hardships on the man on behalf of Winky, the destitute house-elf. Ron didn’t hide his resentment of her obsession, but Sirius didn’t seem to mind. She just watched Hermione sniff righteously while petting Buckbeak, an indulgent amused smirk curving at her lips. 

“The bond between master and house-elf is a complex thing,” Sirius said, and Hermione’s burgeoning indignation seemed to amuse her even more. “One doesn’t simply release a house-elf. So why did Crouch sack his?”

Harry repeated the story of his missing wand, the Dark Mark’s appearance, and Winky’s apparent guilt. 

While Sirius listened she leaned back against the damp cave wall, not seeming to mind or notice the wet soaking into her clothes. Stretching her legs out in front of her and casually crossed her ankles, her toes repeatedly pointing up and down in unconscious fidgeting. Her naked feet now bared to Harry’s view, he looked at the jaggedly torn nails on her toes, the balls and heels of her feet scraped raw, gravel practically rubbed in the wounds, and dirt caked on her skin. 

Harry thought they must be painful, but Sirius didn’t act like they were bothering her. Digging in the bag of food, she found the flask of pumpkin juice, sipping at it in between picking at the bread as she listened. 

“Let me get this straight.” She abandoned the bread for a roasted chicken wing. “The elf, Winky,” she added before Hermione could open her mouth, “was saving an empty seat when you got up to the Top Box.”

“Right,” Harry, Ron, and Hermione answered.

“And Crouch didn’t turn up at all.” Sirius lifted her eyes from the wing, her brow raised in silent request for clarification.

“I think he’d said he’d been too busy,” Harry explained. 

The tip of the wing crunched under her back teeth. Sirius frowned in thought for a quiet moment then she turned to Harry and asked, “Did you check your pockets after you’d left the Top box?”

“Erm…” Harry thought then shook his head. “No.”

They ran through the whole list of people that could have possibly lifted Harry’s wand, with Sirius smoothly deflecting Hermione from another impassioned defense of the redundant house-elf. They were just about to settle on the Malfoys as suspect number one, when Hermione reminded them of Ludo Bagman’s presence. 

“Ugh, Ludo Bagman.” Sirius sneered in disgust. “I don’t know much about him other than that he was Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps and a degenerate gambler. That and he had wandering hands. Thought ‘get lost’ was code for ‘try harder’.” She snorted derisively. “We met him at a party once, your dad and I, when our old Gryffindor team captain went professional. I told him to bugger off and he tried to get a handful. James decked him so hard he flipped over the snack table.”

Hermione looked positively scandalized while Ron laughed and exclaimed, “Wicked!”

Harry was grinning too, carefully tucking away another story about his dad. He had so few that any little tidbit was like being handed gold. Of course the fact that his dad was protecting his best friend made it all the better. Wizards didn’t often get in fist fights, preferring to duel with magic. That his dad punched the asshole hard enough to knock him back was just-

“Cool,” he breathed and Sirius smiled widely at him. The happy memory of James, her soul-brother, brightened her mood and lightened some of the pain she held inside. 

Sirius got them back on topic and the theory that Ludo Bagman was the one that conjured the Dark Mark was tossed around. It didn’t quite seem to fit though.

“It’s more likely he did it than Winky,” Hermione stubbornly insisted. 

Ron muttered darkly, but Sirius shot him a staying look and he quieted.

They continued to follow the clues and deduced that Crouch was looking to save face and pin the Dark Mark on someone else. 

Then Hermione heatedly cut in. “He sacked her, just because she hadn’t stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled-”

And Ron interrupted. “Will you give it a rest with the elf!”

“Hermione’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron.” Sirius halted the fight before it could escalate. “If you want to know what a man’s like,” she told him, the seriousness in her expression holding his attention, “take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”

Sirius turned away and let Ron chew on that for a moment. 

Stroking a roughened finger back and forth under her lip, she thought hard on the situation.

“All of these absences are very unlike Crouch,” Sirius said listing over the instances. “If he’s ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I’ll eat Buckbeak.”

Harry watched her expression darken, eyes glinting with hatred and violence. He hadn’t seen such a look on Sirius’s face since the night they met. When she had gleefully begged to murder the betrayer Peter Petegrew. 

It sent a shiver up his spine and he shifted uncomfortably. The look of barely restrained menace was definitely arresting, but Harry thought that he much preferred her looks of mischief and warm affection. 

“I know Crouch,” Sirius stated gravely. “He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban – without a trial.”

Through shouts of disbelief, Harry heard rushing in his ears. It made the worst sort of sense, he realized. He couldn’t imagine, crazed with grief and betrayal she might have been, that Sirius would have sat silent during her trial. Even if she didn’t reveal that she was an Animagus, she still would have at least tried to tell people about the Secret-Keeper switch. 

From the raw emotion and relief he’d witnessed on Professor Lupin’s face when he and Sirius had been reunited, Harry didn’t think that, no matter how angry and hurt, Lupin wouldn’t have at least listened to Sirius’s protests. 

So it made since that Sirius had been tossed to the dementors without so much as a by-your-leave. That didn’t stop the red hot flare of anger that raced through Harry. His whole life would have been much different and Sirius wouldn’t have suffered if Crouch had just done his job and given her a fair trial. 

“Crouch was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Sirius explained as she started picking bits of dirt and chicken from underneath her jagged fingernails, seemingly no longer affected by the reminder of her ill treatment.

“He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic,” she continued grimacing at the state of her hands and nails. What she wouldn’t give for a manicure and pedicure right then. “He’s a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical- and power-hungry.” Seeing the darkening look on Harry’s face, Sirius shook her head. “Oh, he was never a Voldemort supporter. No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side.,” she shrugged chewing determinedly at a thumbnail. Spitting a bit of nail from her lips, she gave it up as a bad job and dropped her hands back to her lap. 

“But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side… well,” she looked at the young faces around her and her explanation stalled. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re too young.”

Ron huffed in irritation and challenged, “Try us, why don’t you?”

Sirius flashed him a smirk and nodded in acceptance, “I’ll try you, Ron.” 

Harry listened to the dark picture Sirius painted of the war. Of fear and paranoia –justified more often than not- and suspicion. It was easier to understand how horrible that time must have been when hearing it described by his godmother, than the tales of doom and gloom he heard from anyone else. There was something about her voice, raspy from disuse, but still elegant and cultured with a light twist of irreverence. It made it all so much more real. 

Of course Harry knew it was real. He’d been almost murdered more times than he could count and come face to face with his parents’ killer twice already. Voldemort was a very tangible threat, but the war, despite having changed the Wizarding World and killed so many, always seemed so far off. Like something you read about in a history book. 

Sirius’s silver eyes went empty and deadened while she told them how the dementors eagerly anticipated the wretched deaths of her cellmates. Lonely young wizards falling to evil. Supposedly good people sinking to the same vicious cruelty of their enemies. The destruction of a family for blind political ambition. 

That was what made the war a solid thing in Harry’s mind. Sirius’s voice drifted through his thoughts and the honest frankness in her words was what truly what made him understand. 

To trust or not to trust Snape was an old argument between the three of them. One that Hermione and Ron tended to take to shouting levels. Harry thought to put a stop to it before it could escalate. 

“What d’you think, Sirius?” He had to raise his voice over Ron and Hermione’s debate that was quickly becoming heated. 

His godmother had been watching the byplay between his two friends, strangely intent. At his question Sirius glanced his way with an unreadable expression in her eyes before looking away again. 

Picking up the bread and flask, Sirius took a long drink and nibbled on the crust before answering. 

“Ron and Hermione both have good points,” was her answer. “When I found out Dumbledore had hired Snape, I couldn’t really figure out why. Sure he’d been good at potions,” she conceded, “but he’d always been absolutely fascinated with the Dark Arts. He’d been famous for it in school.” A dark look flickered through her slate grey eyes for a moment then it was gone again and she was popping another bite of bread in her mouth. 

“A slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, in appearance and personality both, Snape was. He knew more curses on the first day of first year than most seventh years. Not to mention he was always hanging around a gang of Slytherins that turned out to be Death Eaters, nearly every one of them.

“Rosier, Wilkes,” Sirius pulled her legs in, crossing them Indian style, as she leaned forward and started ticking names off with her fingers. “They were both killed by Aurors. The Lestranges –married couple- they got to Azkaban not long after I did. Avery –he’s seemed to have wiggled his way out of trouble by claiming influence of the Imperius.” Tipping the flask over her open mouth the last orange drop fell to her tongue and she screwed the top on tossing it back in the bag. 

“They were all part of that gang with Snape, but as far as I know he’d never actually been accused. Slimy git he may be though, he is clever and cunning. It’s possible he wormed his way out of trouble.”

“Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well,” Ron mentioned, “but he wants to keep that quiet.”

Harry added the suspicious behavior he saw from both the Durmstrang Headmaster and his Potions Professor.

“He showed Snape something on his arm?” Sirius asked looking bewildered. “Well, I’ve no idea what that’s about.” Distractedly she drew her bedraggled braid over her shoulder and started running a hand down it as she thought. “But if Karkaroff’s genuinely worried, and he’s going to Snape for answers-…”

A flash of black in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she trailed off. Taking her hand away from her hair, Sirius held out her right forearm and studied it intently, an idea, a theory growing in her mind. The yellowed, frayed cuffs on her shirt - stolen from Remus the one night they’d been allowed to be together before she well and truly had to disappear- were rolled up exposing her skin from the elbow down and the meticulously, painfully needled marks there. 

Just below her elbow on the inside of her arm were two thick bars of solid black over raised branded scar tissue. She turned her arm over and looked at the marks on the other side; a symbol like an X dashed through the middle was large in the center of a ring of runes. They were only two of her many tattoos, but they gave her an idea. 

“What exactly did Karkaroff say when he was showing Snape his arm?” she asked Harry looking up from the study of her marks. Her eyes were alight with intrigue. 

Frowning in confusion, Harry thought back to the night of the Yule Ball. “He said something was getting clearer. Said whatever it was has been getting clearer for months. It seemed to really freak him out.” 

“Hm…” Sirius looked back down at her arm stroking a finger over her brands deep in thought, running this new information over and over in her mind. 

“Did you know,” she began glancing up at the three teenagers watching her curiously, “that tattoos in the Magical World are almost never just for pure esthetics?”

“Really?” Hermione started to get that look in her eyes and Harry was sure she was already itching to hear more. 

“Yes,” Sirius answered. “Wizards get tattoos for a number of reasons; insignias of family and rank, catalysts for spells, marks of achievement, anchors for bonds, even curses.”

Hermione was nodding along and fidgeted like she wanted to start taking notes. Ron was listening too, but not as avidly. He grew up in wizarding society; this was obviously not new information for him. Harry was hanging on his godmother’s every word. 

Since he’d met her –after it’d been established that she wasn’t actually out to kill him, of course- he’d been fascinated by Sirius’s tattoos. They added to her air of mystery and just plain looked cool. That they actually had meaning only made them more so.

“What do yours mean?” he asked trying to get a closer look at the tattoos that had sparked this sudden change of topic. 

“Oh, I’ve got too many to explain all of them right now,” Sirius grinned at his not so quickly hidden look of disappointment, “but these two, I’ll tell you about.” 

Running her fingers over the scar tissue under the black bars, a gentle sad kind of smile curved at her lips. “This is the anchor for my bonds to my brothers of all-but-blood,” she began and Harry met her warm gaze his heart giving a flip when he understood. “James, Remus, and I thought it was a brilliant idea to bind ourselves to each other at the end of our fifth year after we’d finally completed the Animagus transformation. We heated an iron white hot and branded each other, one brand from each brother. Then, while they were still fresh, we tattooed over the burns, pouring just a trickle of our magic into them as we did.”

“That’s barbaric!” Hermione burst out horrified, then blushed and quickly apologized. 

Sirius just snorted, not offended. Though Ron looked a little put out. 

“It’s one of the oldest forms of magic there is. Of course it’s going to be a little primitive.” The smirk on Sirius’s lips was amused at the uncomprehending expression on Hermione’s face. “Magic like that has a price. The price we paid for binding our souls together was in pain. Our own as well as the pain we inflicted on each other.”

“You only have two.” Harry’s voice was quiet, but the unspoken question was loud enough.

Sirius sneered, her palm covering her brands almost protectively. “Wormtail backed out when he found out what we would have to do. He was too afraid of the pain.” 

“Coward,” Ron muttered darkly. He was a pure-blood wizard and all aspects of their society were ingrained in him as solid truth. He understood just how deep the Marauders’ friendship must have been to tie themselves together like that. How sacred such an act was. “It’s a bonding spell. Of course, it was going to be bloody painful.”

“And it was worth it.” Sirius smiled at Ron for his anger on their behalf. To her amusement he blushed bright red and awkwardly averted his gaze. 

Taking pity on his friend, Harry asked, “And the other one? What’s that one mean?”

Any mischief in her expression melted into such tenderness that Harry’s heart started pounding. Holding her arm out for Harry to see it better, Sirius touched the large symbol in the center: the X with a dash through the middle.

“This symbol represents children,” she said not moving her piercing eyes away from Harry’s. “Positioned sideways like this the symbol means ‘child not of my body’.” All he could do in the face of her soft smile was to shyly return it. “And the writing,” she pointed to the ring of foreign characters circling the main symbol, “-in the old tongue- it’s a prayer, a blessing, and a promise of protection and love for my godchild.” 

It was only Harry and Sirius in that cave then. Harry’s chest ached painfully, full to bursting with the unfamiliar feeling of being loved. Unconditionally and truly loved. Blinking furiously, he darted his eyes away from the intensity of Sirius’s gaze. Harry didn’t know what to do with the emotions inside of him. It was a bit overwhelming and he really didn’t want to start crying in front of Ron and Hermione or do something silly like tackle Sirius in a desperate hug and just never let go. 

Sirius seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, because she defused the tense atmosphere by continuing her explanations. 

“Your dad made me your godmother and for wizards that’s one of the most important and sacred duties we can be given. I took my responsibilities to you very seriously, so on the next new moon after you were born, I made my vows to you. Then James tattooed them onto my skin to reflect what was already on my soul.”

Okay so Sirius sucked at defusing emotionally charged moments when it came to Harry and her duties to protect and love him. Luckily for everyone Hermione had fairly good intuition and timing.

“Why did Karkaroff and Snape make you think of your tattoos?”

Sirius gave a series of slow blinks before she was finally able to bring herself back on track. 

“Unlike muggle tattoos, magical tattoos aren’t always inert,” Sirius said. “They can be charmed to do any number of things. I have one that tracks the phases of the moon and revolves with the wizarding calendar. I met a Norwegian wizard with a lightning tattoo that would flash and strike when a storm was coming. Summer before seventh year I spent some time with a French witch that had a tattoo that would tingle if you touched the right combination of flower petals.” The implications of that had Ron blushing anew, Hermione sputtering embarrassed, and Harry wanting to _scourgify_ the images from his brain. 

Their reactions made Sirius let out a light chuckle, but she was merciful so she continued.

“The point is if Karkaroff had something on his arm and it was something that could fade in and out with outside influence then it’s very possible that it could be some kind of magical tattoo.”

“But why would Karkaroff think Snape would care about some tattoo he has?” Harry asked dubiously.

“Because, as I told you, tattoos are symbols, they have meaning to wizards. And whose symbol was getting so much attention recently?” Sirius enquired leadingly.

“Voldemort,” Harry realized. “You think Voldemort gave his followers some kind of tattoo.”

“It makes sense,” Hermione added. “There’s been too many things happening lately not to be connected. If he did mark his followers with tattoos they could be affected by Voldemort becoming more active.”

“It could be something else,” Sirius reminded them, “but with Bertha Jorkin’s disappearance, Crouch’s suspicious illness, and the appearance of Death Eaters at the Quiddich Cup, it’s a more than likely possibility.” 

With that cheery conclusion, words of caution and promises to do more digging were given. Then it was unavoidably time for the three teenagers to go. 

“You should be getting back to school.” Sirius sighed a little sadly at the thought of Harry leaving, but she stood up and stretched out her stiff limbs. Her joints gave loud painful sounding cracks and she grimaced. Weeks of being exclusively a dog then a few hours sitting on solid stone was not good for her body. Especially as starved as she was at the moment.

“Harry,” she gave him a hard look. “Don’t even think about sneaking out of the castle to come see me. Send me notes, because I want to hear everything that’s happening with you, but don’t leave Hogwarts without permission. Ah!” she cut off his protest sharply. “We already know someone is trying to hurt you. Being alone outside the castle is the perfect time to do that.”

“No one’s tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows,” Harry muttered a little petulantly, but Sirius silenced him with a scowl. 

“I don’t care. I won’t breathe easy until this bloody tournament is over and that won’t be for months so try to be careful.” 

Harry felt a little guilty so he nodded. Some of Sirius’s tension eased. 

“And remember,” she said as she ushered them toward the mouth of the cave picking up and handing over Harry’s backpack on the way, “call me Cuddles when you’re talking amongst yourselves, alright?”

Chuckling, Harry was about to follow Ron and Hermione outside when he was pulled back by Sirius’s surprisingly strong grip. 

“Harry,” she held him by the shoulders and just took a moment to look at him. Cradling one of his cheeks with her warm calloused palm, Sirius was smiling softly, but her eyes were distant. “You look so much like James,” she murmured quietly as if to herself. 

Her thumb stroked over his peach fuzzy excuse for stubble and she abruptly returned to the present. Smile widening, a teasing glint appeared in her gaze now. “You’re growing up so fast! You’re taller than me already.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, I couldn’t be short forever.”

“And you’re growing facial hair, too!” she exclaimed, excitement exaggerated specifically so he’d huff in embarrassment and make that adorable wrinkly frown. 

“Sirius!” Harry complained, but didn’t try to move out of her hold. 

Giving a short barking laugh, Sirius relented and pulled her hands away only to hold them out in invitation and demanded, “Well, come on then. We won’t see each other for a while and I need a hug from my godson to tide me over.” Completely ignoring Harry’s exasperation, she beckoned him with her still out stretched hands. “Don’t hold out on me, love.” 

Heaving a sigh as if it were a great burden, Harry stepped in and wrapped his arms around the first person that ever made him feel truly, unreservedly loved. It was an act, of course, because the moment he felt her thin arms settle around him he buried his face in her shoulder and squeezed hard. 

Sirius’s shirt was stiff under his cheek and she smelled of dirt and sweat. She was too thin and sharp in places, but Harry just sank into her warmth. He soaked up the feelings of comfort and love. Somehow, despite being a couple inches shorter and almost two stone underweight, Sirius still managed to give off the impression of surrounding him with her presence. 

“My sweet boy,” she sighed, pressing her chapped lips to his temple, one hand soothingly stroking through his wild hair. “You’ll be safe, won’t you? Remember to be brave, whatever happens, Harry.”

Breath stuttering in his chest, Harry clenched his hands, his fingers digging into her back through her shirt. He was sure he was bruising her, but she just cradled the back of his neck and rubbed her thumb soothingly along the tense muscle there. 

“Sirius…”

She shushed him gently and pressed a firm kiss to his temple. “We’ll see each other again soon, sweetheart. It’ll be alright.” 

Harry felt her start to pull back. Reluctantly, he released his bruising grip and let her separate them. 

“Now, come along.” Sirius smiled at him, eyes bright again with their usual hints of mischief and laughter. “I’ll walk you to the edge of the village. To make sure you don’t get lost.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry insisted as he followed her out of the cave.

She just glanced back at him with an eyebrow raised. At that look, Harry relented and watched, always fascinated, as Sirius transformed into the massive black dog that so resembled the Grim of superstition.

The walk back to Hogsmeade was uneventful and when they finally got to the village goodbyes went quickly. Sirius let Ron and Hermione pet her head, but when it was Harry’s turn she jumped to put her font paws on his shoulders and licked a long wet stripe up his cheek.

“Gah! Sirius!”

The big black dog just let out a string of laughing barks and disappeared around a corner. Harry was left still trying to wipe off the slobber with his shirt sleeve. 

*

_Be brave_. 

That was what Sirius told him. And Harry had tried. God did he try to be brave. He hadn’t felt very brave though. When he’d watched as Cedric was killed, when he was held down and cut so his blood was used to resurrect his parents’ murderer, when he hid behind gravestones and ran for his life. He didn’t feel brave when he’d landed back outside the maze and all he could do was cry and clutch at Cedric’s empty body. 

_It will be alright… hold on…_

He’d done what his mother had said and held on. He’d tried to be brave for her too. 

_We will linger for only moments… but we will give you time…_ His father had told him. _Be ready to run…_

And Harry had run. His father said to run and he wanted to be brave for him so he’d run as he’d never run before. 

Now Harry was standing in Dumbledore’s office watching as if through a haze as his frantic godmother lunged toward him. 

“Harry, are you alright?” Sirius grasped his face between her cold shaking hands searching his eyes for some sign. “I knew it- I knew something like this would happen-” She turned her sharp gaze on Dumbledore and demanded, “What happened?”

When an answer wasn’t quick enough in coming, Sirius focused back on Harry and wrapped an armed around his shoulders pulling him against her. His knee wasn’t cooperating with him anymore and he fairly collapsed in her hold. She took his weight with surprising strength and led him further into the room. 

Pressing him down into one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk, Sirius kept a solid hold on him as she turned back to the Headmaster.

“What happened?” she demanded more urgently this time.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk and began calmly retelling what Barty Crouch Jr. had said. 

Harry didn’t particularly care to hear everything repeated again. He was happy to tip sideways and burry his face in Sirius’s ribcage after she settled on the arm of his chair. Her shirt was stiff and didn’t smell too good, but she was warm. The weight of her arm wrapping back around his shoulders encouraged him to curl closer. He felt safe for the first time since he’d stepped into the maze. 

Fawkes the phoenix landing gently on his knee brought him back to the room. Harry didn’t want to pull away from his hiding place in Sirius’s arms, but Dumbledore wouldn’t let him avoid it anymore. 

“I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry.”

“We can leave it till the morning, Dumbledore,” Sirius cut in harshly. Her hand moved from his shoulder to cradle his head firmly against her, as if to protect him from the memories themselves. “Let him sleep. Let him rest.” 

The rush of gratitude Harry felt for his godmother right then almost brought him to tears, but Dumbledore ignored Sirius’s protests. He wouldn’t be deterred and Harry very unwillingly pulled away from the safety and comfort of his hiding place, lifting his head to fully face the Headmaster. 

“If I thought I could help you by putting you into an enchanted sleep allowing you to postpone this moment when you have to think about tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you must finally feel it. You’ve shown such bravery beyond anything that could have been expected of you. I must ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time.”

_Be brave_.

He could be brave. Just this one last time. Fawkes warm and heavy on his knee and Sirius constant and steady against his side, arm wrapped reassuringly around him. Harry could be brave and tell the tale of one of the worst nights of his life. 

On and on without interruption, Harry told the story. Until he got to the part when Wormtail bled him without hesitation or remorse.

Sirius cursed so vehemently Harry jumped. “I’m going to kill that rat,” she hissed furiously. When he showed them the destroyed arm of his robes and the unhealed cut beneath them, Sirius hissed again in concern this time. 

“This should have been seen to before now. Does it hurt, Harry?” She gently held his arm in her hands and carefully pulled the cloth away to get a better look. 

“Not so much anymore. It’s sorta numb now,” he admitted, but that didn’t seem to reassure her any. 

Resting his arm in her lap, Sirius lightly took his hand and stroked her thumb just where his palm met wrist. “We’ll have Madam Pomfrey see to it first thing.” 

The story must continue on and the implications of Voldemort’s immunity to the protection of Harry’s mother’s sacrifice made the situation all the more grave. 

“He could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face,” Harry told them. He felt more than heard the growl reverberating in Sirius’s chest. 

He told them of the mockery of a duel Voldemort forced on him with little trouble. But when he thought about the ghosts that escaped the Dark Lord’s wand Harry stalled out. The images of his mother and father floated before his eyes and their echoing words drifted through his mind. 

Somehow realizing that Harry wasn’t able to continue on yet, Sirius broke the silence and asked, “Why would their wands connect? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Shared wand cores were yet another thing Harry and Voldemort had in common. He was apprehensive, but when he finally glanced up, Sirius’s face showed nothing more than deep concern. Until he saw the total absence of it, Harry hadn’t realized he’d been afraid to see disgust in her silver grey eyes. 

Really he should have known better. Sirius didn’t balk when he’d told her about his scar burning. She didn’t balk when he’d stopped her from getting her well-deserved revenge. She didn’t balk when she was forced to live off rats just to be close to him. 

A little thing like having brother wands with the Dark Lord Voldemort wasn’t going to be what stopped her loving him. Hadn’t she proved that over and over again? 

It gave him the strength to answer when Dumbledore asked, “No spell can reawaken the dead. All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from Lord Voldemort’s wand.” His penetrating gaze bore into Harry. “Am I correct, Harry?”

“He spoke to me.” Strength he might have had, but that didn’t stop Harry from shaking. “The ghost Cedric or whatever he was, spoke.”

And the old man and Bertha Jorkins and-

“Your parents?” Dumbledore asked quietly.

A sharp intake of breath and Sirius going rigid along Harry’s side were the only reactions from her. 

“Yes,” Harry answered. The word was almost inaudible, but it sounded thunderous in the silence that had fallen in the office.

Sirius’s hand gripped him hard enough to hurt for a moment then it eased to rest, shaking, back on his shoulder. 

Reliving those few precious seconds with his parents amidst all that horror was just as painful as it had been in the moment. And not just for Harry, he realized when Sirius let go of his hand resting her lap and wiped roughly at the hot tears that escaped down her gaunt cheeks. 

“Of course, not even death would stop James from protecting you.” Sirius combed a quivering hand through Harry’s sweat matted hair as she leaned down and pressed an equally quivery kiss to the top of his head. “He loved you so.”

That so much more than Dumbledore’s praise eased his mind and heart. Like Fawkes’s tears on his knee, Sirius’s words made almost all the pain vanish. 

All too soon, Sirius was stroking his hair one last time before standing up and dropping down again on four paws. She followed after Harry and the Headmaster with softly padding steps through the school and into the hospital wing.

With Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and Bill waylaid there was nothing keeping Harry upright much longer. He felt a wave gratefulness for Dumbledore, though, when he diverted Madam Pomfrey as well. 

“Headmaster, may I ask…?” she trailed off staring wide eyed at the massive black dog standing calmly at Harry’s side. 

“The dog will be staying with Harry for a time,” Dumbledore told her brooking no argument. “I assure you she is very well trained.”

Before long, Harry was dressed in pajamas, being ushered into a bed and settling with his friends sitting on either side of his bed. Madam Pomfrey was handing him a purple potion and he was quickly sinking into a dreamless sleep.

Everything around him was going hazy, blurry like he was underwater. He felt light as a feather and the most comfortable he’d been in he didn’t know how long. But he couldn’t relax and let himself go until the mattress dipped under the weight of a massive black dog and Sirius settled down pressed all along his side. 

Turning into her warmth, Harry threw an arm over Sirius’s back and buried his face into her thick fur. A deep soothing growl rumbled through her chest and Harry finally let himself sleep. 

*

When Harry floated back to consciousness he realized two things. One: Sirius as Padfoot was really heavy. His godmother was stretched out over him, from hips to collar, with her head resting on his shoulder, nose buried between his neck and the pillow. And two: Cornelius Fudge was in actual fact an imbecile. 

Harry almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Fudge was outright rejecting the knowledge that Voldemort was back. Even with Snape’s ugly writhing tattoo - _Sirius was right, she was right_ \- in his face he would rather declare a tortured, traumatized fifteen year old an insane attention seeker, than look at the facts and take action. 

Before, Harry had thought the Minister an amiable man, if a little bumbling, but now it was like he was seeing Fudge for the first time. And what he saw was ugly. 

The Ministry would obviously be no help in the fight against Voldemort and Harry had a thousand galleons he didn’t need or want. 

But that was a problem for later because Sirius was sitting up off his chest and settling calmly next to him on his bed. At first Harry wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but then Dumbledore ordered,

“Sirius, if you could resume your usual form.”

Harry clenched a fist in Sirius’s thick coat and held on, his heart pounding hard. She couldn’t. Sirius couldn’t change back here. Mrs. Weasley was sitting right there. _Snape_ was standing not ten feet away. The last time Sirius stood in front of Snape, the man was gleefully trying to hand her over to the dementors. 

The hold he had on the fur on Sirius’s back probably hurt, but she didn’t snap or try to shake him off. Twisting around to face him she nuzzled his hair at his temple then gave him a small lick on the cheek. Despite it being distinctly canine, her reassurance actually eased some of his panic. Not all, but just enough that his grip loosened enough for her to gently pull free and gracefully jump from the bed. 

Sirius landed on her feet -still bare and dirty- dressed in her ill-fitting Lupin hand-me-downs. Her face and neck were scrubbed as clean as was possible while living in a cave, her hands were only a little dusty, and her hair was finger combed and freshly braided. It wasn’t much but it made the world of difference. 

Not that Mrs. Weasley or Snape would appreciate the change any. 

Mrs. Weasley was busy screeching in panic and trying to get as far away as possible while attempting to drag Ron and Hermione with her. 

“Mum!” Ron shouted over her shrieks. “Mum, it’s alright! She’s okay! Mum, SHUT UP!”

Snape’s reaction though was the one that had Harry twitching for his wand just barely out of reach on the bedside table. 

The man’s face was chalk white, his hand were fisted at his side, fury and horror mingled in his wide black eyes. 

“You!” His snarl was so enraged it silenced Mrs. Weasley.

Sirius had a sneer on her face so filled with contempt and dislike she matched Snape’s intensity easily.

“What is she doing here?” Snape rounded on the Headmaster hissing angrily through his teeth. 

“She is here at my invitation, as are you,” Dumbledore reminded Snape with a stern look. “I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other.”

Fat chance, Harry thought as Sirius and Snape eyed each other like they were scum on the sidewalk. That and Harry wasn’t keen on letting Sirius within ten feet of the greasy git.

“I’ll settle in the short term,” his infinite patience visibly shrinking Dumbledore said, “for lack of open hostility. You’re both on the same side, now. There is much to be done and we do not have time.” For your childish rivalry, went unsaid but not unheard. 

Sirius and Snape both looked like they’d bitten into one of Dumbledore’s sour lemon candies.

With great reluctance Sirius started to take a step forward and Harry grabbed at her before he could stop himself. His heart was pounding and all he could think about was the image of Snape holding his wand point not an inch from her head while grinning maliciously. He wasn’t keen on her getting any close to that overgrown bat.

“Sirius, wait!”

She looked back at him and gave his anxiously sweaty hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright, Harry,” she said, but there was something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite get a read on. “I’ll be fine,” she said and Harry’s mouth opened to protest –loudly- but he was silenced when she winked. There and gone fast as a flash.

“Dumbledore’s right,” Sirius said like nothing had happened, “we’re not enemies anymore.” 

Puzzled, Harry let her fingers slip through his and she took the last few steps toward Snape. He took the bare minimum to meet her half way and held out his hand like it was about to be bitten off. 

I hope it would, Harry thought darkly as he watched Sirius take Snape’s hand with her own. 

It happened just as fast as her wink. Sirius, instead of shaking Snape’s hand like the entire room was expecting, turned their grasp a sharp a quarter turn ‘til her hand was on top, the dusty back facing upwards. Snape didn’t even have time to snatch his hand back, before Sirius swept her foot behind her and fell into the most graceful curtsy Harry had ever seen. Not that he’s seen many.

Sirius’s curtsy was deep and obviously extremely formal. Her dirty clothes, bare feet, and disheveled appearance did absolutely nothing to take away from its elegance. Pausing as she completed her bend, Sirius kept her head tipped down, but looked up at Snape with challenge in her razor sharp gaze. 

Harry was pretty sure the cracking of Snape’s teeth was audible in the stunned silence that followed Sirius’s move. The Potions professor looked like he would rather throw himself on his own wand, but for some reason he responded in kind. 

Flicking his voluminous black robes behind him, Snape swept one foot back and bowed deeply at the waist. He went so far as to just brush his forehead over Sirius’s hand before he paused. 

In unison, Sirius and Snape rose from their positions until they were both standing straight once more. 

Sirius’s eyes were glinting mischievously in the light a mocking edge in them. Her lips were turned up in a badly suppressed smirk. Snape sneered glaring like he could set her on fire. He practically threw her hand away like it was poison and stepped back hurriedly.

You could hear a pin drop in the stunned silence and Harry had to snap his mouth closed. His jaw had dropped somewhere between Sirius starting to curtsy and Snape actually bowing back. 

“There,” Dumbledore had that ominous twinkle in his eye as he looked between Snape and Sirius. “Easy. That will do to be going on with.” 

The Headmaster started issuing orders and handing out duties. Harry started breathing heavier when he realized that Sirius would be leaving him again. 

“But-”

“It’ll be alright, Harry,” Sirius told him as she sat on the edge of his bed and pulled him into a fierce hug. “I have to go, I must do what I can, but we’ll see each other again soon.”

Harry hid his face in her shoulder again and squeezed his eyes shut against the sting. “Promise?” 

He felt like a child, begging for reassurance, but when Sirius pulled back and kissed him tenderly on the forehead –right over his scar, Harry realized- he had the strength to let go. 

“I promise,” she gave him a smile and stood up, their hands the last things to separate. “Be good while I’m gone,” Sirius grinned and tweaked his nose playfully, “but not too good.”

Spinning on her heel, she dropped to four paws and was out the door with a flick of her furry black tail. Harry rubbed at his nose and watched after Sirius with a weak smile on his lips. 

Sirius hadn’t broken a promise to him yet, so Harry would wait. He wouldn’t be all that patient about it, but he would wait till they could see each other again. 

*

End.


End file.
